


Consumption

by en passant (corinthian)



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cannibalism, Gore, Grotesque Imagery, M/M, Vomit, dubious consent feeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 10:16:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5123876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinthian/pseuds/en%20passant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm starving."</p><hr/><p>After the 4th War, Gilgamesh finds out that having a unique existence isn't all it's cracked up to be. Kirei continues to discover his true path to pleasure and they meet. . . sort of in the middle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Is it to your liking?”

Kirei asks. The smoke in Fuyuki has cleared and left behind ash and rubble and them — standing in it all. The tears and laughter have left Kirei as well, only a placid secretive smile remains on his face.

Gilgamesh laughs, because it’s different than being realized as a wish, as a Servant, as nothing more than an ages old ghost called down by the fossil of a snake. Flesh, bone, blood — and, of course, his own incorruptible will.

But, there was something else as well. Something that stirred in the bottom of his gut, twisted and far too human and far too unpleasant. A hollow craving that he only remembered as a distant discomfort from a time so long ago.

His stomach rumbles with hunger, and out of the corner of his eye, Gilgamesh can see Kirei’s smile grow, just a little.

\+ + +

Humanity is lacking. Gilgamesh’s new body is raw. His skin is too pale and too sensitive and every time Kirei touches him lightning travels down his spine.

He won’t ask not to be touched — his pride won’t allow it and some smaller, darker, more secretive part of himself, won’t allow himself to be alone, again. Not in a flesh and bone body that feels far too much like his journey to find the fountain of youth. He would wonder when he became this desperate again but the part of him that (has to be) untouched by the Grail’s corruption laughs. There’s no desperation here, of course, only further inheriting what was his all along.

He learns to not stiffen when Kirei settles beside him, ghosts fingers down the back of his neck and they explore his new humanity together. Being alive is being vulnerable again and since Gilgamesh is a gracious king he accepts that as well.

\+ + +

“Hunger is only natural for humans,” Kirei says, because Gilgamesh’s stomach rumbles and pangs him and the unfamiliar pain shouldn’t be happening. He may have gained reality, again, but he still was two-thirds divine, he was still a Heroic Spirit, he was _still_ the King of Heroes and he would not be bowed by such a small thing. Kirei smiles more, now, and Gilgamesh has begun to read the different moods in them.

A smile for politeness. A smile for satisfaction. A smile for discovering power over others.

He hasn't sunk that low. That is what Gilgamesh tells himself.

\+ + +

"I'm starving."


	2. Chapter 2

"You are an insufficient magus."

Gilgamesh hisses because his hunger has left him curled up on the floor of the church. It's more than just craving of his body, but also his soul which shreds a littl with every second that passes. It seems unfair that he is to bear the burden of both a spiritual hunger and a physical one, but he's always been exceptional.

"I am," Kirei agrees. He stands over Gilgamesh but the expression he wears is neither mirth nor satisfaction. Gilgamesh wonders if Kirei still hasn't realized the magnamity of Gilgamesh's gift. In this, too, he is still leading the priest down a certain path to happiness.

(Or, at least, if that were true he would still be in control.)

"Then better yourself."

The hunger sits in his stomach and spreads to his lungs and chest. Every breath he takes constricts his heart until he is sure that his eyes as bloodshot.

"We can always sever the contract, if you like."

Kirei kneels and then sits. There's a graciousness to his actions which may ring false, but it is still a gesture that acknoledges Gilgamesh as a king. He strokes Gilgamesh's cheek with the back of his knuckles, a mimic of a fatherly gesture. (And, in fact, it was something that Risei once did, when Kirei had been sick with fever and sick with unhappiness.)

"Sever it." Gilgamesh laughs, thick and vicious. "And then what? Do you propose letting go of your lofty goal to purge this earth just to see it bleed? And should I continue to let the existence of others tarnish what is rightfully mine as king of this world?"

Because, of course, goals weigh more than loneliness.

"No, but I would not hold you against your will, King of Heroes." But Kirei's pupils are dilated and Gilgamesh can see a reflection far too much like his own slit-pupils in them.

He lets his anger come.

"Then _fix_ this!" He thunders, but his voice echoes up into the rafters of the church, far less intimidating than he would like.

"It will not be an elegant situation, due to my inadequacies." Kirei, clearly, has been thinking of Gilgamesh.

"I will not remain this way." Gilgamesh declares. He digs his own fingers into his stomach and even through the fabric of his shirt he can feel his own fingernails press in, but they do nothing against the burning twist of hunger that cuts through his body.

"Your wish is my command." Kirei bows his head and Gilgamesh can't see his expression, but he assumes it's dark and pleased.

He should feel proud, of course, his pupil is learning well. Instead he feels something a little like dread.

\+ + +

Kirei saves lives. The priest is adamant about that in a way that Gilgamesh doesn't understand until he's taken down to the basement. He can't help but laugh.

Of course Kirei saves lives.

The basement is dotted with bodies, but all living. It's almost like a trophy hunter's treasury. Each child preserved in the best way possible, their faces visible and burn wounds exposed. The stench is unbelievable and Gilgamesh staggers, gags, and resists the urge to vomit.

"What a joke," Gilgamesh gets out, finally, the laughter still in his throat but it's turned to gravel. "Is this your job as a priest?"

"Orphans are God's children, since they have no conflicting parental loyalties." Kirei explains. There's a reverant way to how he picks up one child, as if he's holding a precious treasure. "They too have a second chance at life, a chance to be part of something greater."

"Kirei." 

Gilgamesh can see it, the tendrils of power that run from each orphan to the coffins in the basement, the slow well of power that pools and glitters. It's beyond human perception, but he's more than a human and more than a Spirit.

"And here, it has all worked out for the best. If I am insufficient, then you will find this perhaps. . . more filling." Kirei's hand travels to the child's cheek, strokes it with his knuckles.

"You ask _that_ of me?" Gilgamesh demands. He wishes to sound powerful, but he can barely keep standing. 

"You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons too." Kirei quotes. "It is not unusual to partake in blood to continue your survival, is it? Isn't that what Servants already do?"

Gilgamesh accepts the small pool of energy, only, first, because the child has started screaming wordlessly and it would spoil his meal. Kirei pets his hair as he leans over the coffin and drinks.

"This cup is the new covenant in My blood." Kirei intones.

The mana tastes like blood and wine, thick on his tongue and hard to swallow but his hunger abates.


	3. Chapter 3

Kirei dreams of a beautiful person who reminds him of his wife. There is something ephemereal about them, a body shrouded in white with a smile that is always ready to leave him. His chest aches because the phantom pain he created over his wife's passing will haunt him for the rest of his life.

"You're not my first choice." They say and even their voice reminds him of Claudia's, a little too knowing and far too understanding. "But now you're tied together."

"Do be kind, if you can."

"Ask him, if he remembers my name."

"You have an admirable will."

"There's far to fall, for someone like you. But it doesn't have to be that way."

"Perhaps, we'll meet in another lifetime."

"Take care of him."

When he wakes he feels heavy. It would be a feeling of regret, but Kirei has learned that regret, guilt, the kind of feelings that could have driven him to be a better son and a better person, are hard to come by. It must be curiosity, the feeling of having to deal with something he never has before. A shadow of the person he used to be, who wanted so badly to feel those things.

It's the feeling of being exposed completely, accepted but also chastized. He doesn't like it, but when he turns over in bed to see Gilgamesh he's gratified by the wide eyed expression of mad sorrow.

"Did you dream?" Kirei asks.

Gilgamesh's mad sorrow breaks into a feral grin. He sits up, throws his head back and doesn't laugh but his chest shakes. Kirei watches, because he knows what to expect next. Gilgamesh throws the covers of their bed aside, straddles him and leans down so their faces are close.

"What does a king have to dream of? Everything is already within my grasp, so dreams are only faded memories of what I have had."

"What you have lost?" Kirei prompts, because that is also expected.

"Fool," Gilgamesh hisses, and as if he's repudiating Kirei, kisses him. "I've only cast things away." Because, of course, the king hasn't lost anything.

"Then why do you look so uneasy?"

It's not pleasurable. Gilgamesh doesn't respond to that jibe, ignores the way Kirei's smile flattens to even more serpentine.

"Uneasy? Me? You're even stupider than normal, Kirei."

"Ah, forgive me." Kirei, who has so much practiced submission, shows some of it to Gilgamesh. He looks to the side, and leaves his throat exposed. Gilgamesh traces a finger across the skin, like a knifeblade, presses down on the large vein to feel Kirei's heartbeat. It would be so easy to end it.

"I could kill you fo your insolence."

"And I would deserve it." 

In the end, Gilgamesh decides it wouldn't be worth it. Instead of killing Kirei he demands that the priest pay penance. But even, _debase yourself in front of me_ , then it seemed that Kirei had seen something Gilgamesh did not wish him to. Even looking down at Kirei, even feeling that he was the one in control, Gilgamesh felt something slipping away.

His stomach rumbles and Kirei laughs, the vibrations travel between their touching bodies and Gilgamesh feels a little ill.

\+ + +

Gilgamesh dreams.

"Have you not ever been starving, my friend?" Enkidu laughs and teases him and offers him a grape. And then a leg of boar. And then hind of deer. Then a shank of lion, lamb cheeks, the soft ribs of a young calf. They feast and for a moment, Gilgamesh forgets the truth.

Ah, you've died long ago.

"You've never been able to stray from the truth for too long." Enkidu says.

They offer him their hand. He takes it, brings their hand to his face so he can brush their knuckles with his cheek and be soothed.

"I am dreaming." He knows.

"You are." They agree.

Their hand is cold. All of the food he's eaten sits heavy in his stomach but he still feels hollow.

Enkidu pushes their hand into his mouth, their slender fingers grasp a molar and for once their expression is unreadable to Gilgamesh.

"Go back, before this becomes something that makes you even more unhappy."

They pull out his tooth and his blood tastes like the corrupt mud from the Holy Grail.

\+ + +

He wakes up and wonders why his mouth is sore and his cheeks are wet.


	4. Chapter 4

It isn't enough.

Gilgamesh wakes in the middle of the night because hunger pangs are sharp and constant. He grabs Kirei's arm, hard enough to bruise and almost hard enough to break bone.

"Kotomine." He shakes him. " _Kotomine._ " It's unfair that a spirit such as himself should feel so unsettled.

"You've become truly human." Kirei stretches and yawns, completely unconcerned and with no urgency. "A midnight snack is not unheard of. Shall we?"

The basement is another testament to the changing of the years. Kirei's hair grows longer, the orphan bodies grow more emaciated, their skin shrinks and clings to bone, and bone crumbles to soft flesh and eventually ash. Kirei carries down a knife, a bowl, a spoon, a white cloth and Gilgamesh wonders how long the priest has been planning this.

"I'm sure you feel it too, a dissatisfaction in the meals." Kirei explains, sets down his tools. Gilgamesh finds the basement cold, the air uninviting against his bare skin but it's not like a king to admit to such failings.

"Perhaps if you were more fastidious in your preparation, this would not be the case." Gilgamesh sneers, settles himself against the wall with his arms crossed. The filth is organized, almost cleanly, in the way that Kirei himself was; a collection of twisted and malevolent objects, arranged and maintained.

"My apologies, let us begin."

Kirei walks from coffin to coffin, there's a certain amount of dramatic flair to his movements. He looks over one orphan, twisted and missing a leg, mouth open and gaping in a soundless cry. The next had no arms and an exposed spine that Kirei takes time to caress, cleaning rotted flesh from the bone to further expose it. Gilgamesh had yet to see Kirei have such attentiveness to the church he presided over, nor to most people.

At the fifth orphan, one mostly intact, Kirei stops and after cradling the sunken cheeks turns the face towards Gilgamesh. Hardened veins show under the taut skin, the left eye has swollen to the point of bursting and like the others, it makes such a tormented expression but no sound.

"Will this one suit you?" Kirei asks, jovial.

"Suit me? It's horrid." Gilgamesh doesn't budge away from the wall.

"Don't be so insulting. Every life is precious in its own way." Kirei lays the orphan's body on the white cloth he brought. "This too is a way of worship."

"Worship? To who? Your god?"

"No, if this was to my God it would be another question." Kirei sounds solemn. "Come here, Gilgamesh."

"Will you dare to order me?" Gilgamesh uncrosses his arms to stand, more braced. As a spirit — as a previous Heroic Spirit, it would not be difficult to fight Kirei. The priest was hardly a magus, despite his other talents.

"Order? I certainly have the capability." Kirei tilts his head towards his arm where the command seals lay branded into his skin. "But we don't have such a relationship. This is an invitation to dine with me."

Gilgamesh doesn't move.

"Would you prefer. . .?" Kirei rolls up his sleeve, exposing the lattice of command seals. Then, expertly, he draws the knife across the tip of one, cutting off a neat triangle of skin and this he offers up to Gilgamesh. 

Even though there is several strides between them, Gilgamesh can smell it — or maybe he can feel it. The slight tinge of magic in the air mixing with Kirei's blood. He waits too long, however, and it dissipates.

(Just that would not have been enough, either.)

"Come here, Gilgamesh." Kirei invites, again.

Without waiting for a response, he takes the knife to the body laid out like a lamb. One delicate cut to the face, under the ruined eye, just enough to loosen the skin so he can grab it and peel it back to expise the rise of a cheekbone and soft thin strip meat beneath. The spoon scoops out the remaining good eye and deposits it carefully into the bowl, whole and trailing small capillaries.

Two cuts through the chest, forming a V and this skin is torn away rapidly. Kirei's hands shake, slightly and even though his expression stays neutral Gilgamesh knows that it's laughter — still probably incredulous, thrilled at the discovery.

The body doesn't smell like blood, not in the way that Kirei's wound had. Instead it's _life_ and magic. The sight makes his stomach roll unhappily, because it doesn't take much effort for Kirei to crack the chest and expose the slow beating heart and lungs that shudder and struggle to work in a body that is beyond the line of death.

"Stop." Gilgamesh hisses, but it's so quiet and can't be heard over Kirei's continued butchery. His hand pushes down into the abdominal cavity and with a small huff of laughter spreads his fingers beneath the skin. Gilgamesh can count all five of Kirei's fingers strain under the skin before it bursts and black mud and coils of intestines spill out.

He realizes, then, that his mouth is watering and he has taken two steps forward.

"Don't find shame in it." Kirei murmurs, reverent, "There is much I have learned from you, and perhaps you should take your own advice and indulge."

He holds his hand up, slick with blood and magic and the lifeforce of the orphan disintegrating into the air. Gilgamesh can't let the opportunity escape again. He grasps Kirei's wrist with both hands and pulls the bloodied fingers into his mouth.

It's bitter. The mana has a texture like sand mixed in blood and the rotted blood has its own flavor — one that reminds him of a bloated corpse putrefying in the sun. He gags and Kirei's fingers curl in his mouth, gently taking hold of his tongue.

Gilgamesh drops to his knees and spits, releasing Kirei's hand. His hunger is only wetted, and instead of being dulled his body immediately craves more.

"No more." He says instead, though and buries his face in the white cloth that has begun to stiffen with drying blood.

"As you wish." Kirei agrees, sedate, and gently pets Gilgamesh's hair.


	5. Chapter 5

Kirei should be gone on business. The priest is often called away by the church, by the Magus Association and by his own odd habits. Occasionally they travel together, because Fuyuki is small and Gilgamesh is _still a king_.

But he's glad that Kirei has gone and left him the Church, the wine cellar, a wry admonishment not to drink him dry. Kirei should only be gone for a day, but Gilgamesh figured that was enough.

His pride wouldn't let him have it any other way.

Gilgamesh descends into the basement, steps across the room to the orphan that Kirei had dissected, months ago. It was still alive, even that mutilated, black blood pooled in the coffin before flaking into ash and mana. He crouches down by the coffin, confronted with his own hunger and desperation.

He drops two fingers down into the soft pool of blood before bringing them up to his mouth and sucking. It tastes the same as before, bitter and grainy and far too much like what it is — a corpse. The warm clotted blood sits in his mouth before he forces himself to swallow. It isn't enough.

Bile rises in his throat and he presses his lips together, waiting for it to pass before peering down into the coffin. A flap of charred skin, slick with rot, looks far more manageable than the coins of intestines or much larger organs — kidneys, liver, the eye that had once been round and now was shriveled and milky but dotted with gray.

Gilgamesh picks it out, tries to wipe the excess blood off on the side of the coffin, but it remains soft and wet in his hand. He places it into his mouth and tries to swallow, but it suddenly seems far too large. He should chew but as soon as his jaw half-grinds down on the skin he gags again. The small amount of blood he already ingested rises in his throat and he shifts to lean over the basin to heave.

A hand covers his mouth, it recognizes it immediately — it's Kirei's. But he's still gagging and choking and the stomach acid and black blood rises up the back of his throat to his nose. He can't breathe and tears prick at the corner of his eyes.

"Shhh, it will be fine. Swallow." Kirei's voice is calming, more than it should be as Gilgamesh shudders and gags again before the lump of skin slowly eases down his throat. Kirei's hands caress Gilgamesh's throat as well, a gesture that was somewhere between coaxing the skin downward and gentle strangulation.

Gilgamesh spits, he tries not to drool and twists angrily, to shove at Kirei.

"How dare you! You — " he's aware that he must seem the child, screaming at Kirei as his own saliva and the orphan's blood drips down his chin, but he can't stand to be treated this way. "That was not your place. I should kill you for your insolence."

The golden Gate of Babylon shimmers in the air, ready for his beck and call, but even as he calls it forth his stomach betrays him again.

"I came home early to surprise you," Kirei reveals a bottle of fine wine, a velvet bag which must contain jewelry — for Gilgamesh still has the taste for treasures, even if nothing can compare to his collection. "And yet, it was you who surprised me. If you wish to punish me, then that would be your right, but surely you must know that you're close to your limit."

"Be silent!" 

"As I said before, don't be ashamed." Kirei sits down and for once he looks the part of a priest, ready to pardon all ills and with a kindly smile. Gilgamesh feels the urge to vomit again. Kirei reaches into the coffin and fishes out hunk of meat, it flakes in his fingers, shredding.

"Here." The priest extends his hand. "Surely this can't frighten the King of Heroes."

Gilgamesh doesn't lean forward, but he does open his mouth and wait for Kirei to lean forward and press the shreds of rotten meat into his mouth. It's sweeter than the blood but still putrid, but he's able to chew and swallow it without it coming back up again.

"Good." Kirei's smile grows wide. Gilgamesh licks his lips and opens his mouth again for more.


End file.
